Heartache
by writteninhaste
Summary: She’d always thought that him calling her ‘baby’, rather than addressing her by name, was just his way. Until she was awoken one night by his calling out a different name in his dreams. Interpretive piece. Could be K but rated T for safety.


**Heartache**

It was the Christmas party, and she was stood there at his side. His arm was about her waist and she was tucked into his side, but his eyes weren't watching her. He was looking at the dance-floor, at the woman wrapped happily in another man's arms. She watched as the dancing couple laughed together, love permeating their features. He never stood a chance. And still he watched, watched while she was stood beside him. She knew she should leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. A pricking of her spine, and she turned to find another man's gaze on her. The longing was clear in his eyes – it would be so easy. But at the same time, it was far too hard. She turned her attention back to the dance-floor.

* * *

The woman he so admired, came and asked her if she was ok. That it was _her_ asking the question, made it all the more worse, though the poor woman had no knowledge of her crime. She brushed the concern off, dismissing her friend with flippant words and a wave of her hand. The woman left, returning to the arms of her partner, never sparing a glance for the man who followed her every movement with his eyes.

* * *

She could see trouble brewing. The other man had begun to notice that his friend's eyes were not fixed upon the woman they should be. His hackles were raised, not out of jealousy but out of anger on her part. He came to her, concerned and furious, demanding to know how she could let herself be treated in such a way. He cared for her, he said, wanted her happy. But he could not condone the actions of a man who dismissed her in favour of a woman already attached to another. Her answer was simple. She was in love. She could have done without the pity she saw in his eyes.

* * *

The other woman came to her again. That woman knew the truth now, though that was not very surprising – those two had no secrets from each other. She apologised – which hurt – offered to say something – which hurt more. She declined the offers and clung to her last vestige of dignity – if it could even be called that.

* * *

They rarely spent time together anymore. When they did he was distant. In the back of her draw was a bag which contained hair dye and a pair of coloured contacts. She never used them. To do so would be to tell him that she knew the truth. He might leave her then.

* * *

The man, who had watched her at the Christmas party, kissed her the other day. He had not asked for permission, or given any hint of his intentions – he'd just done it. It made her cry.

* * *

He called her by the other woman's name. The secret was out now. They stayed, frozen in silence for a heartbeat of time, before she gave him permission to call her by that name.

* * *

She bought a wig – the dye was too obvious to outsiders – and donned both wig and contacts for him. He smiled and called her by a name that was not her own. She smiled and played a part. She cried silently once he was asleep that night.

* * *

The man from the party kissed her again the other day. It made her cry again as she pondered 'if only'.

* * *

The other woman moved away. Her man went with her. She could tell he wanted to go too, but the other man had come to him and he hadn't dared after that. So he stayed with her, in this town, and dreamt about the woman who had flown away.

* * *

She was kissed again today. It was a goodbye. The man who had looked at her and seen _her_ was leaving. He pressed his new address into her hand and told her where to find him. Then he'd left – she doubted she would ever see him again.

* * *

She was pregnant. She hadn't meant to be. She could see the accusation in his eyes – his belief that she had done this deliberately. But he stayed.

* * *

They were married – it was a hollow ceremony. No one they had once known was there – instead two witnesses had been pulled in off the street. But their child would have a home – and that was all that mattered.

* * *

He was gone before their daughter was born. She didn't know where he had gone, she wondered if she cared. In her hand she held a slip of paper with an address scrawled in blue ink.

* * *

She turned up on his doorstep, crying and holding a baby that looked just like the man who had ceased to look her way. He looked just as he had when he'd kissed her goodbye: same hair, same eyes, same half-sad smile. He let her into his home and gave her his bed whilst he slept on the couch. As she fell asleep with her arms curled around her child, she spared a thought for 'maybe'.

* * *

When she found him singing a lullaby to a child not his own, and telling her how she was as beautiful as her mother, she doubled her wishes for 'maybe' and sent up a prayer for 'happily ever after'.

* * *

**A/N:** I would be interested to know which characters people thought were playing which roles. I know how I see it, but obviously as this piece is interpretive, I'm not sure how other would see it. On that note, I do apologise if this piece is hard to follow in places - the lack of names or descriptors is deliberate but I acknowledge that it does not aid clarity. As always reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.


End file.
